


A Matter of Perception

by sansapotter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/pseuds/sansapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People would say the queen was cold, but they didn't know her like he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Perception

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of my submission for the Game of Ships of Ice and Fire. Since it was part of my massive collection of shorts I figured I'd give it its own place.

The smallfolk said the Queen in the North had a frozen heart, but she was warm when she curled against him. Their queen was a contradiction; a northern woman who looked like the south; delicate to the eye but stronger than Valyrian steel. Before he rode North his brother had teased him "women in the north are cold, they'll kill you in your sleep if you displease them." Aegon had been married to his Highgarden bride for a year, at nine and ten he had more knowledge of the realm than Jon.

It was likely that Aegon had never lain with a northern woman before, let alone if he'd ever even met one; Jon couldn't imagine a woman warmer than Sansa. Her copper hair caught the light from the fire as she rested against his chest, her breaths were evening out, the tracing of her fingers slowed. Once he had feared this life, king of a frozen land, he hadn't known true fear.

She had given him a son, Torrhen, and in turn he rode beyond the wall. Winter had come, and he led his men against the Others. As a boy Jon dreamt of having songs written about his bravery; each day he was away from his wife and son he could only hope to make it back. Each day he realized the depth of affection he felt for his wife; the patience she had as she tended to his cuts, or the way she mended his cloak before he had noticed a tear. Her shy smile when he presented her with a lemon cake, the same smile he had seen when she had tied a favor to his arm before he rode off.

A year had passed when the Ice Dragons had woken, breathing ice and defeating their enemies. Jon feared he would never be warm again when they rode south, the fires they built could not quell the winter chill.

It wasn't until he returned to Winterfell that he felt the warmth he thought was lost to him forever. The fire in his chambers burnt hot, but Sansa burned hotter as she took him on the arm chair before he had a chance to remove his boots.

She shifted against him, "Jon," she whispered against his neck. Let the smallfolk say what they will, Jon thought to himself as he ran a hand across her auburn hair. He could feel her sleepy smile against him. There was no queen warmer than the one in the north.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on [tumblr](http://www.sansa-potter.tumblr.com)


End file.
